


ivory and gold

by bulletbulletbullet



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Accidental Marriage, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Sugar Daddy, Curses, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Supernatural Elements, anyway, he's actually a sugar husband but now i'm being pedantic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-19 08:54:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29872188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bulletbulletbullet/pseuds/bulletbulletbullet
Summary: The stranger had introduced himself when Jisung had seemed...perplexed by the entire situation. And then he had explained that he was the statue that Jisung had married. And then he explained it all again, two more times, very patiently, as Jisung struggled to absorb the reality of his situation.This man - Minho - was Jisung’s husband.Husband.
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Comments: 34
Kudos: 202
Collections: MINSUNG BINGO: Round Two





	ivory and gold

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Minsung Bingo](https://twitter.com/minsungbingo)!  
>  **Prompts used:** au - fairy tale/fantasy, au - college/university, au - sugar daddy/baby
> 
> I hope no one is looking for a satisfactory explanation for any of the supernatural stuff here, because I don't have one.

Jisung blinked, dazed. It felt like his ears were ringing, but he could hear perfectly clearly - his brain just refused to process what was happening.

“I’m sorry, can you, just, like - tell me the whole thing again? Finals are next week and I think the sleep deprivation is catching up with me.”

The extraordinarily good-looking man sitting on Jisung’s couch - no, not Jisung’s couch, a far nicer, much more expensive version of Jisung’s couch that had somehow manifested in his living room - smiled beatifically, his features so attractive that it was almost hard to look directly at him. Maybe it was a symptom of the overwhelmed-grad-student mania that Jisung was surely experiencing.

“Right, of course. It’s a lot to take in, I’m sure.” Jisung bobbed his head and willed himself to focus as the man - Minho, he’d said his name was Minho - continued to speak. “So, the sculpture garden on campus - it’s been here as long as the school.” Jisung nodded again; he knew that part. “Some of the statues have...stories. Like legends, or myths - but almost all of them were just made up by the students.”

Minho paused for a moment, observing Jisung from his perch. Jisung tried to smile, slumping further into his armchair, which had definitely not been this comfortable (or real leather) the last time he’d been sitting in it.

“One of the statues - _my_ statue - had more than one story about it, and they were all pretty close to the truth, though nobody got it exactly right. Not until you, that is.”

It was all coming back to Jisung now - he and Hyunjin and Felix had been out drinking, trying to burn off some of the stress of their imminent exams, and they’d decided to wander through the sculpture garden as they passed campus on the way back to their apartment building.

Jisung didn’t spend a lot of time looking at the art on campus, but last night one statue in particular had caught his eye. He remembered a lot of drunken rambling about how the statue was the most gorgeous man he’d ever seen until Hyunjin interrupted him to talk about how the statue was _cursed_ and needed true love’s kiss to free him. Felix had butted in, arguing that it wasn’t true love’s kiss, he needed his _soulmate_ to free him. That sounded ridiculous to Jisung, who insisted that the statue was probably just looking for commitment which was pretty hard to come by at a liberal arts institution.

“If you like him so much,” Hyunjin had said, one eye closed so that he could focus on Jisung without tipping over into Felix, “why don’t you _marry_ him?”

“You know what? Maybe I _will.”_

And Jisung, being the spectacular idiot that he was, made up vows on the spot, squinting at the statue’s plaque in the dark so he would know who his groom was. He’d said something about forever, and he definitely remembered the words “I do” coming out of his mouth. He was pretty sure he’d even kissed the statue square on it’s chilled, marble lips while his friends hooted and hollered at him, and that was that. They all stumbled back to their building and Jisung had let himself into his apartment and promptly passed out face down on top of his bed, still fully dressed.

He had woken up, stomach rumbling, to the smell of bacon and fried eggs and coffee, heavenly elixir of the gods, and it wasn’t until he found Minho in his kitchenette that Jisung remembered that he lived alone.

“Good morning, baby,” the stranger had said, smiling while he flipped the bacon.

Jisung’s response was to shriek so loudly that he hurt his _own_ ears and then lock himself in his bedroom.

Maybe he was still drunk. Maybe he was hallucinating.

He found a silver wedding ring on his left hand, a small diamond embedded into the band, and he tugged it off, sweating. It looked real. It certainly _felt_ real. He set the ring down on his bedside table and sunk to the floor, squeezing his eyes shut.

Eventually, the pull of breakfast was too great, even if a crazed maniac had broken into his shitty apartment to cook it for him.

Jisung had stuck his head out of his room, only to find the stranger setting breakfast down on Jisung’s little table, two matching plates with eggs and bacon and perfectly golden toast. There was coffee and what looked like orange juice, and Jisung was sure he didn’t have any orange juice in his fridge. He was also sure he didn’t own any cloth napkins or matching silverware, but those were on the table too.

If Jisung wanted to eat - which he did - he was just going to have to deal with whatever was happening. He could call the police or force himself to wake up from this dream after he finished his breakfast.

Steeling himself, Jisung opened the door fully and marched over to the table to sit down across from the stranger.

“Are you alright, darling?”

“Uh…” Jisung started, and then stopped. Nothing else came out, and he gave up, picking up a piece of buttered toast and shoving it into his mouth.

The stranger seemed to take his enthusiasm for food as a sign that his mood had improved, and he tucked into his own plate with a smile.

Jisung was halfway through his meal when he realized that the table wasn’t wobbling; when he leaned over to check, there weren’t any textbooks propping up the uneven legs, because the legs weren’t uneven anymore. In fact, the whole table looked brand new, no dings or scratches or signs that Jisung had bought it from a second hand store for seven dollars.

“This isn’t my table,” he said around a mouthful of eggs, one eyebrow raised.

The stranger just smiled at him over the rim of his coffee mug. “It is now.”

That was a non-answer if Jisung had ever heard one. “Did you stalk me and break into my apartment just to cook for me and replace my table? Oh my god, is this table _stolen??”_

“Finish your breakfast and then we’ll talk,” the stranger said. Jisung’s eyes snagged on his left hand as the man took another drink of his coffee, a gold band gleaming on his ring finger.

In terms of weird dreams he’d had - because this _had_ to be a dream, that was the only explanation - this was by far the most realistic, and Jisung was kind of intrigued to see where it was going, so he finished his breakfast and watched the stranger take their plates to the sink before he led Jisung into the living room.

The stranger sat down on the couch, patting the cushion next to him; Jisung considered it for a moment and then immediately berated himself for thinking about sitting next to a potential murderer and/or night terror demon just because he was _pretty,_ and then he sat in the armchair instead.

The stranger had introduced himself when Jisung had seemed...perplexed by the entire situation. And then he had explained that he was the statue that Jisung had married. And then he explained it all again, two more times, very patiently, as Jisung struggled to absorb the reality of his situation.

This man - Minho - was Jisung’s husband.

_Husband._

The concept wrapped itself around Jisung’s tender heart and crept into all of his repressed desires and his most secret, bruised, lonely dreams and stuck fast.

Maybe there were worse things than being married to a man who had been cursed to be a statue for as-of-yet undisclosed reasons, who was very sweet and insanely good-looking, who seemed to be able to produce upgraded furniture and jewelry out of thin air. Jisung was still shaky on all of the details.

“This isn’t real,” Jisung said, and if Minho noticed the tremble in his voice, he didn’t mention it. He stood from the couch and moved to Jisung slowly, like he was a wild animal Minho was trying not to spook.

He settled on the floor in front of the arm chair and rested his chin on Jisung’s knee and Jisung fought not to fall in love with him, with his open, lovely face and his sharp nose and his beautiful eyes and his honeyed voice. “Do you want it to be real, sweetheart?”

This was crazy - this whole thing was entirely _crazy_ \- and Jisung was sure he was going to wake up at any moment.

Still, if he could admit that he wanted someone to _belong_ to - someone who belonged to _him_ \- to anyone, it would be his cursed-statue-dream-husband, so he nodded, slowly, biting his lip to keep it from wobbling.

“Then it’s real.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Do you want to go see our marriage certificate? It’s all on file with the county.”

Jisung laughed at that, sure he was verging on hysteria, wiping a rogue tear off of his cheek. “You cook and conjure furniture and forge records - is there anything you can’t do?”

“It’s not a forgery, of that I’m certain. As for what I _can’t_ do,” Minho added, voice sincere, “I’m not really sure. I was a statue for a long time. The deal I made was so long ago, I’m no longer sure what was real and what wasn’t.”

“The deal?”

“It’s a long story, but I’ll tell you if you’d like.”

Jisung nodded again, giving in to the wild impulse to reach out and card his fingers through Minho’s hair. “Maybe another time. I think I’m still experiencing some information overload.” They stayed like that for a moment, Minho leaning into Jisung’s touch. Jisung had never believed in love at first sight before, but if a statue could come to life and cook him breakfast, he supposed anything could be possible, and he couldn’t deny the fact that he wanted this to be real, and he wanted it very badly. “Can we go see the marriage certificate?”

“Of course.” Minho stood and then offered his hand to Jisung, pulling him up out of the chair. Minho stepped towards the door, but Jisung turned towards the bedroom, only stopping when Minho’s hand wrapped around his wrist. “Where are you going?”

Jisung averted his eyes, flushing. “I was going to get my ring.” It felt foolish to admit it, but the awed look on Minho’s face when Jisung finally looked up made the embarrassment worth it. If this man could look at Jisung like that when he was hungover and still wearing last night’s clothes with what had to be terrible bedhead...oh, Jisung was in so much trouble.

Minho wrapped his arms around Jisung’s waist and tugged him close, and Jisung went willingly. “What do you want? Gold, silver? Diamonds? You’d look good in anything.”

Jisung brushed past the compliment, not quite ready to inspect the weight of his physical attraction to Minho just yet, though it was certainly tugging at the edges of his consciousness - it wasn’t _his_ fault that his statue-husband was gorgeous. “You can make me another one?”

“I’ll make you as many as you want.”

“Can you pay off my student loans instead?” It was a joke, but Minho’s curling smile had Jisung’s eyes widening. “You didn’t.”

“I did,” he confirmed, like making tens of thousands of dollars of debt disappear was completely commonplace. “Before I started breakfast.”

Jisung’s head swam, a hundred potential responses battling inside his head before the most prevalent one fought its way out of his mouth before he could second-guess himself. “Please kiss me.”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Minho quipped, and then his lips were on Jisung’s and Jisung forgot all about the cheesiness of his response, head filled with staticky white noise and _Minho._ His lips were soft, and he kissed Jisung so sweetly, like he was precious; Jisung could feel tears pricking at his eyes.

They finally pulled apart to breathe, and Jisung blinked up at Minho, lovestruck. “Woah.”

“The feeling is mutual.” Minho leaned in to peck the corner of his mouth, pulling away before Jisung could deepen the kiss, his smile so soft and fond that Jisung’s heartbeat picked up. “You didn’t tell me what kind of ring you want.”

Jisung studied his husband’s face before his gaze drifted to his own hands where they rested on Minho’s chest. He didn’t need to think about it, to consider metals or stones; the answer was obvious. “One that matches yours, please.”

Minho’s fingers dipped into Jisung’s back pocket and came out with a plain gold band. They had a lot to talk about, but if this wasn’t a dream, they had all the time in the world, so Jisung decided to just bask in this warmth for a little while longer. And if he cried while Minho slipped the ring onto Jisung’s finger, that was no one’s business but his husband’s.

**Author's Note:**

> Come yell at me on twitter (nsfw) [@bulletfic](https://twitter.com/bulletfic) ♡


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